


What The Cat Dragged Out

by rubbertoebehe



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubbertoebehe/pseuds/rubbertoebehe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek visits Stiles three times a week (Tuesdays, Wednesday, and Saturdays) at the diner Stiles serves at just to see him. For a while now Derek has kept hidden how he feels for his favorite server, until one day Stiles decides to pry it out of him.  Not in the way most would think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Cat Dragged Out

Derek wasn't particularly fond of the food Erica's father offered at his local diner--the hamburgers, shakes, and other fried foods weren't of a lesser quality than any other establishment in Beacon Hills, nor did any of it tantalize his palette. Regardless of his standards, Derek never failed to frequent the restaurant in the early afternoon on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, when he knew a particular server would be working.  Every time Derek would grip the cold steel of the door handle and pull it open, the wind chime dangling inside near the entrance would sense the sudden shift in wind current and chatter a sweet melody, one that complimented the slow peace that was stagnant business.  This is why when Derek would enter, the only server working would hustle to the front to greet him with a menu, a genuine warmth gleaming through his professional guise.

"Good afternoon, Derek! Another fine Tuesday we're having today I hope?" Stiles held the menu close to him as he spoke, not bothering to lead Derek to his booth just yet, stalling even though Derek usually spent nearly two hours in the restaurant before it got busier.

"It is now," he said with a grin, relishing in the fact that a blush swept over Stiles' cheeks before he turned to seat him.  Derek often had class in the mornings, so he considered a pit stop at the diner a treat to himself, even if he spent a fair amount of money on adequate, bland food that challenged him to work out more than necessary to keep his athletic figure in check. It was still a treat.

Reyes' was a rather small establishment, seating oriented like a cubic U-shape that curved around the enclosed kitchen area. Stiles always sat Derek in the same booth near the end of the hallway, one that had a convenient view of over half the diner, including the entrance. It was no mystery to Derek why Stiles chose this booth for Derek to sit, but he liked to keep this knowledge to himself. Derek sat down with his back to the entrance as Stiles rested the menu before him. He often took this time to quietly appreciate his nice window view of the roadside before Stiles came back with his Pepsi; he never bothered to inspect the menu simply because he was no stranger to anything the Reyes family had to offer. He nearly tried everything save for the Venison. Still, Derek would postpone ordering anything because he would be too busy talking to Stiles, who at this point would always sit across from Derek after placing the man's drink down. The invitation was long ago established as an open one.

Stiles would sometimes sporadically glance behind him, but rude is the last thing Derek would consider it. The quick glances up would sometimes be followed by a hushed apology and a beeline for the door. Derek would only grin and wait for his return.

This was often how his Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday afternoons played out. It had been close to three months since Derek began to come to the diner for the purpose of seeing Stiles, and in this time the two boys grew to know each other pretty well--hobbies, pasts, schedules, and most everything in between. It wasn't uncommon for gaps of silence to draw out. They were only natural, but it's not the conversation that matters necessarily. It's the company.

Some days are more memorable than others of course, like one Wednesday in February. Derek enters the restaurant and wipes his feet on the rug by the threshold. Stiles doesn't immediately appear the way he usually does and Derek glances to his right, down the restaurant hall where he hears hushed pleas and coos. As if sensing his staring, Stiles peers up from their usual booth and reaches down into Derek's seat to murmur something before quickly approaching him.

"Stiles, what were you--?"

"Doing?" Stiles interjects, curtailing a bemused Derek, "nothing much." He purses his lips to drown his giddy. "I'm merely passing the time with a pleasant surprise," he says with no further prologue as he walks Derek to the booth. He looks cautiously into Derek's hidden cushion before turning back to him with a smile Derek can't help but describe as...precious.

"She was loitering outside and I couldn't just leave her out there," Stiles began as he slowly placed the menu down. "She could have been toted away by the mean town sheriff."  Derek finally looked down in his seat to see a small gray cat lying comfortably across the green and yellow cushion, tensing when looking up at the new man.

"Please don't scare her," Stiles says as he moves closer to Derek's side, brushing against his arm to console the cat. Like many of the incidental physical exchanges that take place between the two of them, Derek over thinks them for a moment longer than he should. This doesn't stop him from responding.

"What makes you think I'm going to scare her? Why do you have a cat in here?"

"SHHHH!" Stiles hisses as he pulls Derek into the booth; they're both sitting in the seat Stiles usually sits in to keep an eye on the door. Today they are sharing the spot, and Derek can't complain.

"Mr. Reyes doesn't know she's in the restaurant. He would definitely flip out."

"Then why bring her in?" Derek suggests blankly, balancing his focus between the current situation and the fact that Stiles still has his hand gripped under his triceps. Nope, nothing to complain about.

Stiles pauses for a moment, never pulling his gaze from Derek's. Derek doesn't back down either. The stalemate doesn't persist for long. "I told you, Derek. I don't want her getting picked up for vagrancy."

Even if Derek could reply, the chimes near the front of the restaurant clamor as Stiles begins pushing Derek up from the booth. "Stay with Miss Mittens," Stiles commands as Derek is standing.

"You named it?"

"Sort of. It's a work in progress. Please and thank you," he sings as he's rushing down the carpet to meet the sudden party of six, a definite handful.

Derek's thick, black eyebrows knit together, the skin between them pushing up like a newly formed mountain. He doesn't like when big parties come in. It only means that Stiles has to spend more time actually doing his job, which means less time for Derek.

He would have sulked in the booth like smoldering ash if it wasn't for Miss Mittens pulling him back to reality, literally pawing at him to focus on her instead. Derek wretches his hand back as he cast his glare down. In that moment he couldn't deny that the cat was nothing short of adorable. The opaque green of her eyes shined wide and bright against her dark gray fur and black pupils. He reaches down slowly to offer the cat the neutrality pact that was his hand, petting her head when she pushed into it.

He eased the cat over and sat next to her as he looked back to see that Stiles sat the party near the opposite end of the diner—the usual procedure on days when Derek was present. He's more accustom to this happening on Saturdays, but today is a Wednesday. This is not okay.

Derek of course realizes an easy solution to all of this, one that does not include Derek coercing Stiles into quitting his job. He knows he could ask the boy out…on a date. Or just as friends. Derek would much prefer a date though. He can't will himself to do this however. Every time he thinks about it, he can't help but be reminded of the times Stiles has talked about his favorite crush: Lydia Martin. Stiles tells him, in concert with his Lydia spiels how he has no chance with her and that he's totally accepted this, but this of course means that Stiles can't be attracted to him. He's not a girl, which this Lydia girl is. And he is not, Derek tells himself again, which means Stiles can't be attracted to him. Because he's not as funny or friendly or as wonderful as Stiles. Which means Stiles can't be attracted to him. He's not good enough.

He tells himself over and over again these things, and yet Derek continues to come to the adequate local diner on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday afternoons when he knows Stiles has no other choice but to serve him. He always comes alone. It must be a sad sight, for Stiles to seat him so often alone. He probably sits with him out of pity. All of this Derek tells himself as he subconsciously pets the cat in his lap.

He feels her purring vibrate through her body and into his own. He looks down to see she is practically in bliss, which makes him feel warm and good. It reminds him of the kitty he once owned before…before he couldn't have him any longer; before he couldn't hold on to his parents any longer; before the source of all the pain, guilt, and depression in his life culminated to one single memory.

He pushes it all away again, like usual. He continues to caress Miss Mittens, watching her fur float around like dandelion spores. He forces himself to smile and think about when Stiles will come back to him.

Derek hears footsteps approach from behind and he inhales with anticipation, excited to finally talk to the boy. He inhales a little too much through his nose however, and feels his senses goes hazy with cat hair.

"Have you ordered yet, sir?"

Hell on Earth.

Derek relinquishes a great sneeze as Mr. Reyes stands beside him. Miss Mittens peels off his lap quicker than a cat would in a warehouse full of rocking chairs, disappearing through the diner.

"Young man, what do you think you're doing with an animal in here!?" the owner exclaims as he backs away from Derek.

Seriously, Hell on Earth.

Derek burst out of the booth, cat hair raining off his chest in slow waves. He immediately scours the restaurant that was in his direct line of sight, ignoring Mr. Reyes all together. Stiles trusted him to watch Miss Mittens—to keep her safe—and he failed. He failed like he does with a lot more things than he cares to recall.

"Sir—"

"SHIT!" another familiar voice erupts from the other side of the diner, definitely too audibly. Stiles runs across the restaurant and meets his boss and Derek. "Missy— !" he yelps as he comes face to face with his boss.

The tall, blond man peers down at Stiles, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "So what is it, Mr. Stilinski: Mr. or Miss?

Is that embarrassment or is that the feeling of hell's hot magma melting Derek's face off?

Derek could only stare at Stiles as the other boy fumbled with his apron. "Well um, of course it's Mr. Unless you're identifying as another gender other than male, wh-which is fine--great," he huffs out. "Oh um, not the point. Sorry."

"Correct, that is not the point," Mr. Reyes confirms, his eyes wide with bemuse. A smirk escapes in the form of a pencil thin sliver on his lips before swallowing it away. "The point is that your friend here seems to have brought in a cat, and you let him. That is not okay—"

"No Derek didn't bring her, I did!" Stiles interjects, glancing frantically at Derek before looking back at his boss.

"Please, tell me why?" At this point Mr. Reyes doesn't even look surprised anymore. Stiles however looks like he was going to snap with nerves.

"Because she would have been picked up for vagrancy…."

Both Mr. Reyes and Stiles look in Derek's direction. Stiles' eyebrows shoot up like a weight hit from a hammer carnival game. Mr. Reyes looks interested as well, but a lot less terrified unlike Stiles.

Derek glanced between them both and pursed his lips, grining. The awkward tension between the three of them pawed at them like a…like a stray cat at their ankles.

Mr. Reyes looks down to see Miss Mittens prod his leg before brushing herself over his leg. Derek and Stiles look down at this, and dammit all if it wasn't the cutest thing to happen all day.

"AwwWWWwwww," Stiles sings as he watches Mr. Reyes pick up the feline, his boss shooting him a stern look. He chuckled nervously and continues to strain his apron fabric. His boss however held the cat and pet it some more.

"After today no more animals in the restaurant," he directs at Stiles before carrying the cat towards the back.

Stiles was silent for a second before speaking up. "Where are you taking her?" he asks, concern creeping into his voice as he walks in his direction.

"I'm going to let Danny know I have a special ingredient for him to put in the chili today," he calls back before walking through the kitchen doors. Peeling after him, Stiles shouts no no no's under his breath. In his haste Stiles couldn't hear Derek's laughter booming from his chest.

Stiles comes out of the kitchen a few minutes later to find Derek brushing cat hair off the booth cushion on the floor. "So Mr. Reyes said he's going to keep Missy in his office so she doesn't run around and get hair in the food."

"That's probably for the best," Derek offered, looking down at his shirt as he brushed off more hair as he glances up at the boy.

Stiles stares at the action, his eyes lingering on his chest even as he speaks. "Yeah…maybe for the best," he murmurs.

Derek smiles, imagining the reason for Stiles' sudden fuzzy state is because of him—a laughable concept.

"Oh, I never asked if you wanted to place an order!" Stiles says as he stirs himself.

"You know I don't exactly prefer the food here," Derek attests casually, not thinking about what he was actually saying. "I'll pass for today." He chances a look up at Stiles, registering the look of conflict on his face a little too late. Too close!  Too close to be letting the cat out of the bag.

"Oh," Stiles concedes, looking around Derek, but never actually at him.

His breath hitches inside himself.  Derek's heart swelled as he felt the blood rush to his face. He could feel his body creaking, his every movement stagnant and strained.

"Well…" Stiles began again, a few pulse beats of blood in Derek's ear later. "We could go someplace else…someplace where you do prefer the food…together. If you want." The boy shoved his hands into his apron; he began to nervously fiddle with the few dollar bills he got from tips, the worn paper smooth against his fingertips.

Derek looked up from a particularly thick cluster of cat hair at Stiles, seriously questioning his listening skills. "When do you get off?" Derek asks blankly.

A surprised flick of joy crosses Stiles' face. "Uh, seven."

"See you at seven then?" Derek proposes. The last thing he can think about is eating. All he can focus on is how with every passing second Stiles is beaming more and more.

"See you at seven."

**Author's Note:**

> So much fluff!! And of course I can't NOT make myself sad when I write from Derek's pov for more than 2k words. I've been struggling with whether or not to continue this. I'm notorious for never finishing multi chapter fics and I don't want to disappoint you all.
> 
> Comments/reviews are much appreciated, but most importantly enjoy. Let me know how I'm doing.


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